Pilgrim Snow
by WolfBane2
Summary: Sasuke's POV, after the twoandahalf years in Orochimaru's village. What was it that was before this place that has never seen the sun? He knew, a moment ago. But he has forgotten.


Note: This takes place towards the end of the two-and-a-half years after he had gone to Orochimaru. If you do not know who "he" refers to, I am not going to give you the honor of being told the answer to such a stupid question. The italics are flashbacks.

"_I survived. I do not know if that is the same thing as not dying."_

_-Peter S. Beagle, "The Innkeeper's Song"_

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It was dark. For such a long time, it had been dark. But if he thought about this for awhile, he'd wonder what dark meant, exactly. What else was there but dark? To question dark was to question the Earth below you, to question the fact that air in your lungs made you live, and that a lack of it made you die. Existence was dark, and what else did he know but existence? Training, Orochimaru, the Sound ninjas whose names he did not know and did not wish to know, the flat silence that seemed very in danger of suddenly blossoming into chaos at any moment…

_Far away, a few meters from the tips of his ragged sandals, a woman screamed. No, not just a woman, she was his mother. Obsidian eyes observed that she was very pretty, very pretty indeed as her shoulder struck the earth and crimson liquid oozed from the gaping wound between her shoulder blades. Sprawled beside her was the larger body of a man, whose swollen tongue dangled limply from his mouth. The man's throat was curiously crushed, the imprints of long fingers marring the perfect white skin. Both of his parents did have such flawless skin, carved of porcelain that was only alive by technicality. A figure reared above them, magnificent and horrible. More liquid flew from a dozen slashes spread upon its body, given to the figure by the figure's sire as proof that the man had not gone from this world without struggle._

_The figure was his brother. Itachi. The only one in this place who then possessed a name, himself included._

_He huddled in the shadow of their ravaged home, and waited for the world to end._

Occasionally, images would flash before him that were curiously devoid of dark. People. He thought that's what they were called. Others with names. But that was foolish, for now there were only two beings granted names: Orochimaru and Itachi. They were cruel gods. One was long-tongued, who physically leered over his shoulder and threatened to light a fire under his blistered feet each time he faltered for even a moment in training. He did not know what the training was for, and he had long ceased to care. Training was a word that meant muddy smells of wet soil and foreign blood, blades and fire that did not sing as they slashed through space or flesh, shadows that darted and lunged and only became flesh when his techniques pierced their centers. And movement. Always and endless, movement.

It was when the movement ceased that he could think of the strange images that were not dominated by dark, but by something else that was bizarre and foreboding. It was…another color? A color that was not black, blue, or red? Was that possible? He thought it had been possible, once, when things had been different. Or perhaps the idea was only a fragment of a dream long forgotten.

The other god with a name was the figure. His brother, Itachi. He did not know what a brother was, or why it was so important. All he knew was that he had to kill Itachi, had to make Itachi like the shadows that suddenly became bodies when they were stabbed or burnt to ashes. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

_"I'm sorry I was late. On my way here, I witnessed a pack of dogs chasing a young raccoon and felt obligated to drive them away-"_

_"LIAR, Kakashi-sensei!"_

_"Never mind that. Today, you will be learning how to distinguish a disguised enemy hidden in a crowd…"_

In awakening, he was sent on errand after errand through the forests, or else trained further. Long ago, Orochimaru had accompanied him on these errands. Orochimaru had been afraid of something, and he thought he had known back then what Orochimaru had feared might happen, but now he did not. Now, last week, forever, he trained and fought alone. He never knew who it was that came up against him in combat, or the spars Orochimaru arranged that were more alikened to dogfights. And why should he. Their lives ended so quickly.

He ate once after sleeping and once before. In the dark, it was nearly impossible to distinguish what it was that he took from the chipped bowl and swallowed. But once again, this did not really matter. The food was solid in his throat and filled his stomach, and that was enough. That was all that could be expected.

_The two others turned to face him. Their faces were not those that he knew, but those that he felt he should know. One wore a long garment of red, a color he knew well. The being's hair was oddly hued: it was like red, but less distinct, sweeter. Its eyes were a bewildering shade, perhaps related to blue? The other wore a jacket and pants of a color that also was lighter than red, but harsh and gaudy, though in a pleasant way. Its hair was spiky, and of a bright color that was indescribable with only the three hues that he could label. Thankfully, its eyes were lightened blue, something he could describe, for he remembered that the shirt he wore was called blue, and the two shades were alike to one another. Alike…_

Now, he almost wished for Orochimaru's leering words. Though their needles dug into numbed flesh and left ghost aches that did not fade as quickly as true blood wounds do, at least they did pain him. At least when the god he feared looped a taunting noose of tongue around his neck, he was aware of his own existence. At least when the god spoke his name with a sneering grin, he briefly remembered that he too had possessed a name, once upon a time, and perhaps that meant that the faces within the phantom thoughts also had names. The things that had names were the things that meant something to him.

"_Sasuke-kun? Why are you being so quiet?"_

"_Eh, let the stuck-up jerk alone, Sakura-chan. He's always quiet."_

"_DID YOU JUST INSULT SASUKE-KUN!"_

"_Itai! Stop! I didn't mean it! That hurts, Sakura-chan!"_

_He smiled, in spite of himself._

In this room without windows, he waited patiently. The walls did not prevent him from knowing it was as dark outside as it was within. This place, the Village of Sound, was always dark. Life hid its face in this place, scuttling along the walls and praying not to be noticed by the invisible serpent that prowled, nonexistent but always poised to strike. Peeling and cracked, the despairing expanses of walls that caged him had long ceased to provide torment. He was tired, and he would sleep now, curled in the back of his mind to ponder the faces that might have been able to see in the darkness of heart.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

_"Come on, Sasuke-teme! This time I'll thrash you!"_

_"Give up, dobe. You know you won't beat me."_

_"Oh yeah? Bring it on, you bastard! I won't lose to you again!"_

_Lose to you…lose you…it was strange how alike the phrases were._

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Author's Note: I hate the dubbed Naruto. I really do. After I saw the first two episodes, I dared to hope we might have a decent dub. But then…they cut out the scene of the actual kiss in Episode Three, between Sasuke and Naruto. So Naruto is now chained to the hopeless damnation of all the other dubbed animes that are cut to rate G. Let us pray for the anime's soul. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and at times begged unashamedly for. They got rid of the kissing scene…(mourns for all of SasuNaru fandom) And on another note, Sasuke's dubbed voice isn't good.


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